Owen Gets A Cavity
by Lord Kristine
Summary: Pretty self-explanatory.


Owen first noticed that he had a cavity when he bit into an apple that he had been using to initiate sexy, sexy foreplay with his formerly-human currently-stegoceratops wife. He grimaced and touched his cheek, flicking his tongue over the sore spot.

"Agh! I think I knocked a tooth!"

Beneath him, Claire Dearing the stegoceratops cocked her head.

"Knocked your tooth? What do you mean?"

"I knocked it out of place or something. It's been hurting for a week or so, and now-"

Suddenly, Claire sprung to her feet, accidentally pushing Owen off of the bed in a tangled heap.

"Oh my god! You have a cavity!"

The way she shrunk away from him, he might as well have had vampirism. He rubbed his jaw and winced in pain.

"A cavity? How did _that_ happen?"

"I don't know! You said you were brushing your teeth properly!"

"I am . . . kind of. Not really. What does it matter, when we have fluoride in the water?"

Claire frowned.

"They don't put fluoride in this water, Owen, because it's been proven to be less effective than was previously determined. Besides, dental care is up to each individual, not the government."

"What if I can't afford a toothbrush?"

"For goodness sake, Owen, the cheapest toothbrushes are only two dollars."

"What if I can't afford toothpaste?" he persisted.

"Toothpaste is like mouthwash: it mostly freshens the breath, but also helps with hygiene. _HELPS_. You can't use it alone and expect to be healthy."

Owen grumbled.

"So, what do I do?"

"Go to the dentist."

"I haven't been to the dentist for at least ten years!"

The way Claire looked at him made his heart sink. It was the same look she gave him when he told her that he had grown up in a trailer. All at once, she was pitying him, judging him, and probably wondering why she had even married him in the first place. More than anything, he valued her respect, as it had proven to be quite difficult to obtain. Now, he was losing it, and fast. The worst part about their setup was that no matter how hard he tried to convince her that marrying him hadn't been a mistake, all it took was a single comment to invalidate his effort. She was staring at him like he was trash, and that was saying something, considering she hated herself for being a stegoceratops. The only question now was how to change her mind. He would have to prove to her that he wasn't just some loser with poor dental hygiene. That's why it was of the utmost importance that he go to the dentist as soon as possible.

"I'll do it. I'll go to the dentist."

Claire nodded.

"Good. Having healthy teeth increases your lifespan."

That could be a good sign. She must want him to live longer. Or maybe he was reading too deep into her words.

"When should I go?"

"Today, if possible. I heard there's a decent dentists' office in the other world."

Owen nodded.

"We'll have to call them."

"That's what the phone is for."

Well, at least she trusted him enough to make his own calls. It was possible she had no idea that he was hesitant to go through with booking an appointment. He wasn't too keen on medical examinations and other such nonsense. Owen couldn't be honest about this fact, of course, since Claire would say he should have taken better care of himself to avoid these incidents in the first place. Fine talk, coming from her. Claire did a very poor job of taking care of herself, and not because she wasn't used to her new body. She knew perfectly well that she required special amenities and had species-specific needs, but she went out of her way to pretend like that wasn't the case. In the past year alone, she had nearly starved herself, tried to saw her own horns off, and apparently overdosed on Advil while he was away. At least Owen had an excuse for his mistakes, that being his tendency to screw up, but Claire went out of her way to make things worse for herself, and by extension, her husband. For this reason, he was forced to walk on eggshells constantly, hoping that he wouldn't say something to upset her. Hell, on the subject of teeth, she had to have a special pedal attached to her magic toothbrush arm, because even though it should have been able to clean her teeth automatically, she required the psychological satisfaction of knowing that she had some control over it. That was really, really stupid. If Owen had a magic toothbrush, he wouldn't give a rat's ass whether or not he could make it run with manpower, as long as it worked.

"Are you okay?"

Owen blinked.

"What?"

"You're frowning. Are you okay?" Claire repeated.

He shook his head.

"I'm fine. I'll book an appointment for this afternoon."

*************C*************

As it so happened, one of Owen's least favorite people was in charge of dentistry on Isla Nublar (the Isla Nublar of the other world). The person in question was actually not a person at all, but a yellow dragon by the name of Elkay. When he entered the office, she glared at him furiously and tossed her iPad to the side.

"I'm a person, you know. People don't have to be human."

Owen blinked.

"What?"

"I'm just saying, it seems like you were thinking of me as a non-person. That's kind of hypocritical, considering your wife is a stegoceratops."

Owen crossed his arms.

"Claire is not an animal, you are not a person, and you shouldn't be reading my thoughts."

"I wasn't."

"Well, whatever you were doing, stop it. It's an invasion of privacy."

She flicked her ear.

"Good point. Now, let me stick my hands in your mouth."

She directed him to a chair, which reminded him of some sort of James Bond style torture device. He sat down hesitantly, then adjusted his position as the dragon made the chair tilt backwards.

"Alright, I think I know what I'm doing," she said, "I promise that no matter how this turns out, I won't yank the wrong tooth."

Owen's eyes went wide.

"I'm here for a cavity, not whatever _that_ is."

She blinked innocently.

"Right . . . It was a figure of speech . . ."

Owen winced as she prodded his tooth with a silver pick. She scratched it a little, then withdrew her hands. Owen licked his lips.

"Is it bad?"

"Kind of. I'll have to numb it for you."

She lifted a needle. Owen went rigid.

"Please don't."

"It'll hurt like hell if I don't stick you right now."

"I don't care. I can deal with it."

She rolled her eyes.

"Fine. You're being a moron, though."

Owen sighed.

"I'm sure Claire would agree."

"Trouble with the Mrs?" the dragon pried as she poked around in his mouth.

"Uh-huh. She thinks I'm-GAK!"

He gagged on her hands.

"Don't talk while I'm working," she snapped.

Owen sighed. After a moment, the dragon reached for a drill. When she turned it on, Owen shrunk away fearfully.

"Can't you use magic?"

She turned off the drill with disappointment.

"Sure, if you want to be boring about it."

She held her hand a few inches above his face.

"This may take a while."

After a long pause, she took a deep breath.

"So, how's everything?"

"Terrible."

"Why?"

"Claire thinks I'm a piece of trash with no value whatsoever."

He hadn't meant to say it, but now that it was out . . .

"I mean, I work so hard to make her happy, because she's always depressed. I know it's hard for her to be a stegoceratops, but that doesn't mean I don't have problems, too. Whenever I try to share my past with her, she gets _so_ uncomfortable. It's like she can't stand the thought of being married to someone with flaws. But we all have flaws, don't we? Maybe Claire is so busy pretending she's perfect-"

"You just said she hates herself, yet you also claim she pretends to be perfect. That makes no sense."

Owen scoffed.

"Welcome to _my_ world! Claire _never_ makes sense. She's always contradicting herself, and it's impossible to tell when she's being honest and when she's lying. I wouldn't mind if it was just around other people, but she does it to me, too. We're supposed to love each other unconditionally, so why is she so afraid to be sincere?"

"Maybe you react the same way when she talks about being a stegoceratops as she does when you talk about your past."

"Bullshit! I've been extremely supportive. I'm constantly telling her that everything is going to be okay."

"Maybe she needs to hear something else."

"What? What does she want to hear? From where I'm standing, everything I say is wrong. Why do _I_ have to be the one who's constantly on edge? Just once, can't I enjoy myself?"

"I thought you were happy in your marriage."

Owen froze.

"I . . . I am, but Claire ruins it with her self-loathing. When she's happy, I'm happy, but she's sad most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"A lot. All I want is to be in a normal relationship, but she keeps making my life so difficult."

"And you don't think you make her life difficult at all?"

He sighed.

"I don't mean to, if I do. Accidents happen. People make mistakes. What Claire is doing is neither of those things. She's being cruel on purpose."

"Are you sure?"

Owen nodded slowly.

"Yeah. I think I am. It was like this before, too. She was mean to me before we were married."

"First of all, you sound like a child. Second, if she was such a bitch, why did you marry her?"

Owen pushed the dragon's hand to the side and sat up.

"Because I love her! Maybe it was a stupid decision, but I'm not thinking with my brain: I'm thinking with my heart. I thought I would be okay with anything as long as we had- at the very least- a brief moments of happiness, but I've been putting so much effort into our relationship that I'm just sick and tired of it all. Every time I surprise her with a garden or a fancy dinner or whatever crazy thing she wants, there's a glimmer of contentment, but the very next day, it's back to the usual depression. Just once, why can't _she_ be the one to surprise me? Why do _I_ have to bend over backwards to please her when all she thinks about is herself?"

Elkay folded her ears.

"With all due respect, Owen, as hard as it is to put up with her mental issues, you have to understand that she's not doing this on purpose. She's suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and everything that's making you unhappy is just a chinook of emotions breezing down from the hurricane in her mind."

"That doesn't sound like a real thing."

"Regardless, she's not choosing to be miserable any more than someone with depression is choosing to be sad. Matters of the mind are hard to overcome."

"She could try."

"I think she _is_ trying. It's just hard for her, and it may sometimes seem futile in her mind. You can't just bottle up emotions."

"I don't cry."

"That's very unhealthy, and I've seen you cry. It's impossible to suppress that kind of thing."

"But I can control it."

Elkay shook her head.

"Living in a way that denies the complexity of human emotions will only make you miserable. You have to strike a balance between attending to your own needs and taking other people's emotions into account."

"Yeah, well Claire isn't doing that. She's being selfish."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate you saying that. Your cavity is cured, by the way. What flavor of fluoride do you want?"

"I'm going to tell her."

Elkay blinked.

"Come again?"

"I'm not putting up with this shit anymore. I'm going to stand up for myself."

After a pause, the dragon shrugged.

"It's your funeral, I suppose."

*************C*************

When Owen returned to his cabin, Claire was waiting on the lawn. She bounded up to him cheerfully, and he found himself getting annoyed at the fact that she was so chipper when he was clearly fuming.

"Hey, Owen! How was-"

"Fine."

He walked straight past her, and she turned around with confusion and worry.

"Is something wrong?"

"What do _you_ think?"

Claire pursued him with concern, her brow clouded.

"What's going on? Why are you so angry?"

"It's complicated."

She gasped.

"Oh my god, Owen! Is something wrong with your teeth? Were they able to fix your cavity? Is-"

He wheeled around.

"It's not _about_ my teeth, Claire! This isn't just some stupid little problem!"

She frowned.

"Owen . . ."

"No, I mean it, Claire. I'm really pissed off right now, and all you can think about is a stupid cavity!"

Claire pawed at the ground.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"You treat me like garbage."

Her jaw dropped.

"What? When?"

"All the time. This morning, you looked at me like I was worthless."

"I don't remember-"

"You think I'm trash just because I come from a bad family and get cavities."

She snorted.

"Now, hang on. I told you to get that cavity fixed because I care about-"

"Don't pretend to be a saint, Claire. You think you're so much better than everyone because you're upper middle class and educated and from some stupid nuclear family where everything was always perfect and wonderful. You think just because you had everything handed to you on a silver platter, you're better than other people. But you're really not. You've never had to put up with true hardship. You've never had to worry about whether you'd be able to pay rent or afford insurance. The hardest thing you've had to deal with is being a stegoceratops, and that's nothing compared to what some people have to live through. You can pretend to be perfect, but that doesn't make you a better person. It makes you spoiled rotten."

Claire's eyes burned with fury, but her glare was giving way to a miserable expression. Her face twitched, trying to resist this change, but the gigantic tears welling up in her eyes made it very difficult. Finally, she turned away from him and ran towards the barn, sobbing all the way. Owen's first instinct was to go after her, but he resisted the urge. He was sick of coddling her. She would have to deal with this alone.

*************C*************

Owen did not see his wife for the rest of the day. She was making a conscious effort to avoid him, it seemed, but the storm of her breakdown left telltale signs of a crisis. As Owen wandered around the house, he noticed several clues that allowed him to piece together what she had been doing before his arrival at the scene of the crime. Firstly, she had torn off the makeup drawer and dumped its contents into the garbage. Some time after this, she smashed one of the mirrors downstairs. Owen stepped over the glass nervously and entered the family room to investigate further. A photo album was lying on the ground, turned to a picture of Claire in her twenties. Nearby, her old pony toy had apparently been flung across the room, landing on the couch.

Owen heard the door to the medicine cabinet slam, and his heart dropped. Claire had left the room by the time he entered, and to his relief, nothing was missing. It was probably safe to keep ignoring her. But then, more clues popped up.

At some point, she must have made her way to the kitchen, because there was food scattered across the floor. It was as if a raccoon had gotten into the fridge's contents and made a mess of everything. Owen stepped over a long smear of melted ice cream and jogged out the back door, which was wide open. There, he found the lawn torn up in clumps, in what could only be described as an act of violent grazing. Nearby, there were creases in a mud puddle, and footprints leading away from it, towards the shed. He followed them and found some old bridles lying on the ground. He picked one up and noticed that the bit was wet. As he dropped the device, he discovered something else unnerving: there was chicken feed strewn in a line across the lawn. He followed it to the empty bag, which had been chewed up quite badly. He walked a little faster.

As he jogged along the side of the house, he noticed long scrapes on the wall, probably caused by Claire's horns. One of the pillars on the deck had nearly been splintered by a tail spike, and there were more signs of impact in other areas. When Owen stepped down from the porch, his foot landed in something wet. He shook off his shoe and headed towards the barn. Claire was not inside.

Panicked, Owen searched the entire property for his wife, wondering how it was possible for him to lose a two-ton dinosaur. The answer was very simple. As he made his third or fourth round of the house, Owen noticed a large, black tarp moving through the grass. He was immediately relieved, if a bit confused, but whatever Claire was going through, it was not to be understood. He simply watched the tarp scurry by, rustling with each step. He wasn't sure whether Claire could see him or not, but it was getting late, and soon he would be left with no choice: he would have to confront her or let her freeze to death outside. Obviously, he couldn't allow the latter to happen.

Slowly, so as not to startle her, he trudged through the long grass. When he reached the tarp, he placed his hand on it tenderly. Claire shifted, but did not run.

"Claire?"

He tried to pull up the front of the tarp, but she snatched it away from him with her beak. He rolled his eyes and came at her from the side, and she was unable to stop him. She made a kind of growling snort when he removed the tarp, and he had to circle her to get it off properly, which made her fidget. When Claire was exposed, Owen discovered that she was caked in dry mud. The filth was less thick around her beak, probably because she had been drooling. He looked at her with worry, but she did not meet his gaze. She simply stared at the ground blankly, showing no facial expression.

"Claire, we need to go inside."

She did not reply. Owen put his hand on her neck and spoke a little louder.

"We need to go inside."

When she refused to speak a second time, Owen wrapped his fingers around one of her horns gently and pulled her towards the house. She resisted a little, moaning with exhaustion, but gave up very quickly. Once they were inside, Owen took off his shoes and led her upstairs. He shepherded her into the bath, which he filled with warm water. She mooed quietly and sat down, making the water rise a significant amount. Owen patted her gently and began to splash water over her body. When the thickest dirt fell away, Owen used the showerhead to rinse her off. He then dried her with a towel and led her back into the bedroom. Instead of jumping up on the bed like she usually did, Claire lumbered over to the corner of the room and curled up like an abandoned puppy. Owen tried to move her, but she pushed him away gently. Defeated, he slipped into bed alone.

It didn't take long for Owen to realize that he could not fall asleep. Besides the guilt of causing another meltdown, he was being kept awake by the cold of night. Without Claire, he didn't feel comfortable in bed.

With a deep sigh, he marched across the room and sat down beside his wife. He lifted her arm and snuggled under it, then pinned her tail between his ankles. She gave a sad rumble and placed her chin on the ground.

"Claire?"

"You're right."

It was strange hearing her voice after a long period of silence. Stranger still, her words were completely out of character. Was it possible she had gone insane?

"I'm right? About what?"

"I'm no better than anyone else. I'm the opposite. I'm just a big, dumb animal."

"I never said that . . ."

"It's true, though. It was only a matter of time before this happened. I knew you'd figure it out eventually."

"Figure what out?"

"That I'm worthless."

Owen sat up and put his hand on her snout.

"You're not worthless."

"I am. I hoped that I might be more than just an animal, but I'm not. I'm just a big, smelly dinosaur."

Owen pressed his cheek against her frill.

"Don't say that, Claire."

"It's true."

"No, it's not."

"I'm garbage."

"You're anything but."

He kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry for snapping today. I wasn't thinking straight. Everything I said was a lie."

"No, it wasn't. I'm vain."

Owen shrugged.

"I don't think you're vain."

She sniffed.

"All this time, I've been trying to fix _this_ -"

She pointed at her face.

"-but it's useless. I'm not human. I'm barely even an animal."

Owen lifted her chin.

"Do you really believe that?"

Claire rumbled.

"I've been trying to fool myself, but it's not working."

Owen took a deep breath.

"Trust me, Claire: you're not an animal. When I said you weren't better than anyone else, I didn't mean it. You're my favorite person in the whole world. I wouldn't trade you for anyone or anything."

She closed her eyes.

"Then you're as deluded as _I_ am. I'm not worth keeping."

"Why not?"

"Because I make your life miserable."

Owen gave her a sympathetic look, then twisted his mouth. He scooted over to her side and placed both hands on her belly. She peeked over her shoulder. Without warning, he began to tickle her furiously. She shrieked and rolled over, inadvertently exposing herself to another attack. Owen leapt up on her tummy and continued the tickle fight, keeping balance as she thrashed around and screamed. Finally, she grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up. He reached out, but his fingers barely grazed her.

"What are you doing?" she cackled.

"Tickling you."

"Why?"

"So you'll laugh."

"Why do you want me to laugh?"

"I want you to be happy."

"Well, I'm happy when you're happy."

Owen blinked.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why?"

He shrugged.

"Well, I just thought you'd be happy for other reasons."

She let him drop to her belly and hugged him tightly.

"You're the best part of my life right now. What else could make me happy?"

Owen smiled and gave her a squeeze. She mooed gently. They shared a kiss. It lasted for a long time. Finally, she pulled away and batted her eyes.

"Why do you taste like green apples?"

"Fluoride."

Claire raised her eyebrows.

"Oh. That's interesting. I thought maybe you'd choose bubblegum or something."

Owen smiled and quirked a brow.

"I know what you like."

Claire cocked her head.

"But weren't you mad at me?"

Owen sighed.

"A little. But I never stay that way for long."

Claire bumped his chest with her beak.

"Do you think we fight more than other couples?"

"Same amount, maybe less."

"Are we as happy as other couples?"

Owen smiled and hugged her neck.

"Who cares? I'm happy enough, and that's what's important."

"Am _I_ happy?"

Owen frowned with puzzlement.

"What kind of a question is that?"

Claire shrugged.

"I know I can be gloomy sometimes, but I don't want to be. Am I happy enough, or do I make you sad?"

Owen exhaled and rubbed her cheek.

"You can't help the way you feel. I wish you were happy all the time, but that's unrealistic. I just hope I'm not doing anything to upset you."

Claire shook her head.

"No, you make it better. I'm happy when I'm with you."

Owen hummed.

"Well, you sure seemed happy when I got back, and I ruined your mood . . ."

Claire gulped.

"Actually, that was because . . ."

"Because what?"

"I had a surprise for you."

Owen's eyes went wide.

"A surprise?"

She quirked the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah, but it was stupid."

"What? What was it?"

Claire sighed.

"I made popsicles. Whenever I went to the dentist as a child, my mom would make popsicles for me and my sister. We'd count down the minutes until we could have them, because you're not allowed to eat right after having your teeth cleaned . . ."

"But if you just had your teeth cleaned, why would you-"

"It was fun. That was the point. I know I pretend like I'm serious about this stuff, but that's not always the case. I can be lighthearted."

Owen grinned.

"I know you can, Claire, and I like it when you are."

She smiled, but her face fell after a beat.

"I know I'm not always the easiest person to be around, but I try to be cheerful, I do. It's just hard when I'm . . ."

Her voice broke off in a quaver. She took a deep breath and tried again.

"When I'm . . . ugly."

Owen sighed.

"Claire, you're not-"

She placed her front foot over his mouth.

"I know you don't think I am, and you're wonderful for being so kind, but imagine waking up every morning and seeing a dinosaur in the mirror. I'm not the person I used to be, Owen. I've lost my face. I can never be the human I was born as . . ."

She sniffled, then turned away. Owen took a deep breath and held her.

"No one stays the same for their entire life. I used to be trailer trash, but I'm more than that now . . . I hope . . ."

"You are."

"Right. And you used to be someone who hated me, but that's not the case now . . ."

"It's not."

"So even if you think this change is bad, I don't. And don't forget that you'll always be you, because no one can lose entire periods of their lives. You'll still have traces of human-Claire for years to come, and I'll get a cavity every now and then, because I wasn't quite raised right."

Claire wrapped her arms and tail around him.

"Owen, I don't care if you get cavities. You're a wonderful human being."

"So are you."

Claire blinked, then burst out laughing.

"Owen, you're so stupid! . . ."

She giggled, making Owen shake as he sat in her arms. He kissed her cheek when she was stable enough to allow it.

"Are we okay, then? For now, I mean . . ."

Claire nodded.

"I'm sorry for making you feel unwanted. I don't always show as much appreciation as I should, but . . . Well, I'm glad you're here. And I really _am_ happy."

Owen gulped.

"But what if we fight again?"

"We will. But that's okay. Remember when you thought I was breaking up with you, and you started crying on the couch?"

"I try not to."

"Well you _should_ remember it, because I told you something very important that day. No matter how much we disagree or fight or whatever you want to call it, we will always love each other. It's normal for people to argue, and being normal . . . being normal is something I feel good about."

"That's good, because we're pretty normal," Owen beamed as he squeezed her tail.

"I hope so."

"Even if we're not, does it really matter?"

She hummed.

"I guess not. Love is enough."

Owen smiled and stood up, allowing Claire to get into bed. She turned around a couple of times for some reason, then arched her back and yawned. When she was settled, Owen hopped up beside her and gave her a quick pat before lying against her belly. She mooed with contentment, then placed her chin on his lap. When her tail brushed over his foot, he flinched.

"Ow!"

She sat upright with worry.

"What?"

Owen winced.

"I think I have an ingrown toenail!"


End file.
